The doctor had just extricated our 9 lbs, 8 oz baby from G's belly, and the nurses brought her over to the station where they clean her and do all that they do. And having spent the last 39 weeks inside a nice, warm, mostly dark cave, being thrust into a cold, brightly-lit room with all of these strange sounds was not the most ideal scenario for our girl. She began to fuss and cry, as newborns are prone to do. Standing there, looking at her, and just itching to hold her, I simply said, "Hi, Nyla."
Immediately. And I do mean immediately... she stopped crying. And turned her head. And looked at me. At that moment, if she had asked me for a private island, it would have been hers. As if "Dada" wasn't wrapped around her little finger enough, she took it to the next level. After they swaddled her up, they passed her to me. To me. It's hard to describe, but that's when everything became real. That I had a beautiful, healthy baby girl.
Since that day one year ago, we have been on a roller coaster ride, with ups, downs, and loop-the-loops - but mostly ups. Watching Ny grow and develop is amazing. I remember her first smile, her first giggles, and, most importantly, the first time she said, "Dada." I've said it before, and I'll say it again, there is no greater responsibility than bringing and then raising up new life into this world, BUT there is no greater blessing and joy as well. The closest thing to God's unconditional love is the love parents have for children. I have learned that this year.
And when I get home today from work and walk in that door, that little girl that turned her head at the sound of my voice one year ago will walk over to me, want me to pick her up, and give me the sweetest open-mouthed, wet kiss in the world.
And I plan on treasuring it today, just like I do every day.